


Memory

by TheHolosexualPan



Series: Witcher Fanfics [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Study, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22865329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHolosexualPan/pseuds/TheHolosexualPan
Summary: Love isn’t what Jaskier wants from Geralt, because that is impossible, but he’d have thought friendship was on the table. Jaskier follows Geralt around as if whenever he denies their bond, his heart doesn’t get shattered, only to be put back together by the love that Jaskier grooms into a caged bird, one that doesn’t sing and doesn’t fly.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Witcher Fanfics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646332
Comments: 10
Kudos: 149





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> The one where I hurt the sunshine child even more.

Jaskier didn’t write accurate songs about the creatures Geralt fought, because, come on, sometimes people needed more _drama_ , more _heartbreak_ and more _mystery_ to enjoy his songs, they didn’t need all the gruesome details and the stoic truth behind his cosmeticised tales of Geralt’s bravery. But Geralt didn’t give him enough credit. He always listened intently and hung onto every word Geralt had to offer him about the monsters they fought and Jaskier had not one, but rather, two leather-bound notebooks. One for his songs, one for the Witcher’s monsters.

And so, when faced with a djinn, Jaskier feigns ignorance about how djinni work and even what their proper name is. But he _does_ know. Geralt had once, drunkenly, Jaskier recalls, rambled about them and how tricky they are, because they are beings that a Witcher must _free_ , not fight. Which is kind of hard when the whole matter is dependent on how willing the wisher is to help out and not be a pain in the arse.

But as he struggles to take the little ceramic container from Geralt, more of a teasing action than a malicious one, after all, his singing _had_ just been insulted, he doesn’t mean to free the djinn. Jaskier simply pulls a little too hard and, with all the adrenaline and magic in the air, he gets maybe a _little_ irrational. Just a little, really. But he knows that he is not the djinn’s master, he can _feel_ it, somehow, and Jaskier would question it, but his instincts had never led him astray before, so as a joke more than anything else… He wishes. He wishes the death of a fellow musician who had broken his own heart when they were still students at Oxenfurt, he wishes for yet another affair with the Countess de Stael and just when he is about to make a final wish, fully confident that the djinn is at least chuckling at the bard’s antics, both of them aware that the magic in the air is swirling around Geralt and not Jaskier, he feels a steady hand grab him by his doublet and pull him back.

He turns and looks at Geralt with an incredulous look in his eyes, ready to point out that, _obviously_ , he was jesting and-

And then they’re kind of arguing and Geralt just _isn’t listening_ and he wants some peace apparently and Jaskier wants to point out that a djinn would probably see a dead Geralt as a peaceful Geralt, but then it grabs him by the throat. He can feel the djinn’s magic surging around him and enveloping him and it almost feels familiar, but then there’s pain and suddenly he looks at the blood at his feets and he thinks some animal must have died there before Jaksier realises, _hey, that’s my blood! Fuck!_

Fear and pain is what Jaskier feels flowing into his heart like wine in an already filled cup and it’s kind of familiar. He hears he might die and feels Geralt’s pat on his arm. And they’re on the move again. The up and down movement of horse riding is lessened by the Roach’s steady and fluid gallop. He wishes he could thank her, but he fears that if he opens his mouth, more blood will leak out. They’re headed towards a mage, he thinks, but the world around him is seen in flashes, blue eyes unfocused, and he’s not sure anymore about anything that’s going on around him.

An orgy is almost the last thing he’d expect to see when they enter the main room of the grand house they’d arrived at. Normally, Jaskier wouldn’t fluster at any of this, seeing as a he’s a bard and, well, bards aren’t necessarily strangers to the oddest of sexual situations, what with serving lords and mistresses in more areas than just singing. It was just the way of things. But all the nudity and carnal activities are also surrounded with magic and they feel wrong. There are hands grasping at him and he doesn’t want them there.

Geralt exchanges words with the beautiful mage at the end of the large room, the only one that isn’t taking part in the coupling going on around here, and she _is_ beautiful, but the magic is coming from her and that frightens Jaskier. From her conversation with Geralt he concludes that she will heal him and that Geralt barely sees him as a friend. Jaskier passes out after that, but the fear and the pain intensify, both coming from his own heart rather than his throbbing neck.

He wakes after what feels like an eternity trapped into a dream where he falls endlessly and Jaskier uses his shaky hands to check his throat and sighs heavily when the tumor that had been growing there is gone, but breathing kind of hurts right now. The moment he notices the mage, he runs away. Jaskier doesn’t expect to meet Geralt and the elf that had directed them to the mage outside, but today is full of surprises. The sun shines brightly and Geralt looks kind of disheveled. Jaskier runs at him and would normally embrace Geralt, because that’s just how Jaskier is, but he remembers how Geralt avoided calling him a _friend_ and hesitates. He keeps his hands to himself.

He had pleaded with Geralt that they should just leave, his fear of the mage making his eyes wild, but Geralt finally decides to care about someone else, namely the insane witch that treated him. Jaskier’s fear spikes and he knows that the scent of sick and blood covers the one of fear that Geralt can pinpoint like nothing else, but he knows that even if Geralt had known how afraid Jaskier is of the sorceress, he would still have gone back inside to save her. _She saved my life, my arse!,_ he thinks as he watches the house collapse and he knows Geralt is still alive, _his instincts never failed him_ . But honestly he didn’t need to see the proof of it in the Witcher’s bedroom prowess. He didn’t need to _see it, hear it_ or _be jealous_ of the mage _, damn her!_

The djinn incident is the first time Jaskier realises that his admiration and his, apparently, one-sided friendship had turned into something more. It genuinely terrifies Jaskier, but he feels it deep in his chest, the knowledge that he will follow Geralt anywhere as long as the Witcher would let him. To the ends of the world, _the edge of it_ , he chuckles at that, even if his heart gets stomped on in the process.

Love isn’t what Jaskier wants from Geralt, because _that_ is impossible, but he’d have thought friendship was on the table. Jaskier follows Geralt around as if whenever he denies their bond, his heart doesn’t get shattered, only to be put back together by the love that Jaskier grooms into a caged bird, one that doesn’t sing and doesn’t fly.

* * *

Sometimes, Geralt looks at Jaskier weirdly, not like he looks at _Yennefer_ , Jaksier doesn’t let his hopes grow that high, but rather, he looks at him they way he would look at a contractor after they’d given the witcher a very much unhelpful description of what he wanted him to hunt for them. Like he’s solving a puzzle. It usually happens when they don’t have enough money for an inn or they’re too far from one and must make camp for the night. When Jaskier tries to remember an old melody and play it on his lute or hum it out but gives up after hours of failing and ends up composing something wildly different. Tonight is one such night and he’s been thinking about this melody that’s followed him for years but that he can never get quite right, no matter how familiar it sounds while they’d been walking. He almost throws the lute into the grass in frustration but controls that urge, nimble fingers running over the neck of the instrument. He feels golden eyes stare at him and Jaskier is just irritated enough that this sets his nerves aflame.

“What?”, Jaskier asks between gritted teeth, but the anger leaves him in the breath that follows the tense question. Geralt looks at him from across the fire with a question in his eyes. Jaskier sighs.

“Why are you looking at me?”, he elaborates and Geralt hums. Jaskier rolls his eyes, but smiles anyways.

“Why do you keep working on that melody?”, Geralt finally asks and Jaskier thinks that it’s so easy to explain to _himself_ , but trying to tell Geralt about the odd instincts-thingies he feels sometimes and how they are telling him that he must figure out this almost-memory song is a bit harder.

“Dunno. I think I heard it somewhere and it stuck. But I can’t quite get it right!”, with that, Jaskier dramatically leans over the fire to glare at it. Geralt hums again.

* * *

Jaskier remembers the song fully on his way down the mountain. He hums it under his breath and works a couple of lyrics over the melody in his head as he walks for days. He doesn’t allow himself to feel anything and just keeps humming it, sometimes strumming the lute to its tune. He remembers his mother singing it to him on the nights after his father held a party, when they stood in his own bedroom, the door locked, his father shouting from the other side. She never left. She remained by his father until it killed her, until her poor heart gave up. Jaskier left soon afterwards, doing what his mother could not due to her treacherous heart.

He thinks he gets it now. Only, his father never chased his mother away. Death did. He thinks his father might have loved his mother, somewhere in his messed up vision of the world, with his clouded senses and skewed ‘affections’. He doesn’t have the benefit of anything other than his own love.

Jaskier is fully aware that Geralt will come down the mountain and they won’t speak about the words that the Witcher had thrown like venom. Jaskier will keep following until death took him away or until the Witcher himself took that particular matter into his own hands. It’s not the first time Geralt had chased him away and Jaskier had come back. But Jaskier is growing old. 

One day he won’t be _able_ to follow Geralt anymore and then, maybe then, his poor heart will get its rest, but until then, instincts be damned, he would follow Geralt around anywhere. Because he can’t live without his heart, captive and silent as it is. He can’t live without Geralt.

Jaskier keeps humming the song when he hears familiar footsteps behind him for just a second more before stopping and making a mental note to write it down and never sing it again.

**Author's Note:**

> I am thinking of doing a longer work that also has a lot of pining, but a happy ending! For now, I'm just going to keep making myself cry and projecting onto my poor boy Jaskier.


End file.
